The one that got away
by Nikitaxx
Summary: AU. Dean takes a trip down memory lane.


**Hey all! So this is a little something that popped in my head while I was listening to my iPod. I'm not done with Three Wooden Crosses, I just haven't found my muse. I do not own Supernatural, nor the characters. I simply borrowed them for this. Hope you like it! Read and Review. Reviews make me happy! **

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><p><strong>The one that got away<strong>

He was crossing a path he hadn't crossed in a long time, but he remembered it as if he'd never stopped going there. All the nicks and cracks in the stone that led there. Every last one of them, he remembered. Because it was her. It would always be her. It was raining today and Dean smiled slowly. It fit his mood. Fall had always been their season. She'd loved the naked trees, the leaves, brown and yellow on the ground, the crisp air. Dean had loved it because he'd loved her.

He pulled his battered leather jacket closer to his body and sighed. Walking down that path always brought back memories. He'd met her in high school. He was new in town and he didn't have many friends. He'd entered the school that first day of October feeling like a misfit. She had come to talk to him that day. She'd smiled at him and Dean knew they'd be friends forever. He had been right.

Their friendship had changed throughout the years. They had become suddenly something more than just friends. They'd become a couple. She had been his first everything: his first friend in a new town, his first _best_ friend, his first kiss, his first love… When they'd turned eighteen, they would steal her mother's liquor, get in his Impala and drive out to the lake. There, they'd drink and talk all night. They'd talk about their future, what they wanted to do with their lives. She had wanted to be a doctor and he had wanted to be a mechanic.

They had spent the whole summer together that year. They'd even had matching tattoos that summer. He laughed at that. His parents had freaked out when they'd found out. John and Mary Winchester did not approve of tattoos and piercings. Lucky for him, it had only been a temporary tattoo. He had wanted to see what it would look like on him, on _them_. Her mother had freaked out also, but it had been worth it. They had made plans to get a real tattoo someday.

That summer, they had spent their whole time in his car. The Impala had become their home away from home. They would go to the next town just for the thrill of the ride. The thrill of driving just above the speed limit, like they were some kind of rebels. That summer, it had been like it was just them against the world. In a way, it had been. In September, she would leave for college and he'd go with her. They would have their own place and everything would be great. He wanted to ask her to marry him at the end of summer. They had been dating for so long; it had seemed like the next logical step.

Everything changed the weekend before they were supposed to move to their own place. They were on one of their little road trips. It was the weekend he wanted to ask her to become his wife, to promise her he'd love her forever. He was just waiting for the right time. It was a gloomy day, kind of like today. The rain was falling hard, and he was lost in his thoughts. He didn't see the other car coming. There was an accident. When he woke up in the hospital, he remembered that the first word he had said was her name. He wanted to see her. The tears in his mother's eyes told him he'd never get to see her again. Dean had cried his heart out that night, and the day after, and the week after. Until Sammy had told him enough was enough, that he had to start living again. If not for him, than for _her_. It had been hard, but he'd made it through.

Dean took a right turn and stopped. The stone was standing there. An angel looking towards the sky. He had chosen it. She had become his angel that dreadful day. He kneeled down and let his fingers trace the letters. Water and mud seeped through his jeans, but he didn't care. He wiped at the tears on his face and traced her name once more: _Joanna Beth Harvelle, April 7__th__ 1985 – August 22__nd__ 2003_.

"I love you Jo…" he said. He got up and walked back to his car. He wouldn't come back. Not for a long time. But he'd never forget her.


End file.
